He's That Boy
by SoccerChick2112
Summary: To Kim, Jared's not just any boy. He's that boy. The one you write silly doodles about and stare at all the time. The one who you've been secretly obsessed with forever, but doesn't even know you exist. So what happens when he realizes she does? KxJ
1. Just Another Day

A/N: Hey. So this is my first FF in years… my last one was rather crappy, I'm hoping this one will be less so since I'm a little older and a tad wiser. It's my take on Jared and Kim's relationship… just a heads up I'm trying to really characterize the characters of the novel, and Kim's very interested in Psychology and it's in her POV, so there will be mentions about some stuff that people who haven't studied Psych much won't know. They won't be plot altering so it's not really that important to get them, but if you have any questions make sure to ask.

So, without further ado, read on, and please leave a review to tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. [=

~*~

I sighed.

There he was, again. Like every other day. It's so odd how I can be so obsessed with him when his mere existence sends me spiraling into self-consciousness and misery. He doesn't even really know that I exist. Well, maybe that's going a bit far, I was pretty sure he knew my name. Actually, I'm positive he did, because the highlight of my year was the day he asked me for a pencil. He even touched me; tapped me on the shoulder and everything.

I also realize that the fact that that is the highlight of my year is ridiculously pathetic, ergo, the never ending cycle of self-consciousness and misery. I should just forget about him, move on with my life and stop being such an obsessive… creeper.

But he was just so… **Jared**.

"Kim?" a voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Hu?" I replied, slightly dazed. Jared stupors seem to have that kind of effect on me.

"The answer, Kim," the voice replied impatiently. Oh, I had been asked a question… most likely because I wasn't paying attention. Right, so I'm in history class, and I'm staring at Jared, again. Oops. I flushed, and I'm sure if I had been pale I would be bright red by now. See what I mean? I think about Jared, stare blatantly and Jared, and then get humiliated because I'm some type of obsessive stalker creep. Wasn't there a study with a dog and a bell that's supposed to prove how much I should be the _opposite_ of obsessed with him by now?

Our teacher, Mr. Donavan, is glaring at me. Oh, right, history, answer. What were we studying right now again? Frantically, trying to remember, I come up with the American Revolution… and the French Revolution, maybe?

"Um… ah… Marie Antoinette?" I stuttered hopelessly.

Mr. Donavan raised an eyebrow, "I hardly think Marie Antoinette was a writer for the Federalist Papers, Kimberly, especially seeing as she was dead when they were written. Perhaps if you spent more time listening and less time staring at Mr. Thail, you would know that."

There were a few audible snorts and more than a couple giggles from the peanut gallery. I suddenly wished I could melt into a puddle, or really anything that could hide me from the embarrassment. I slid a few inches down in my chair and muttered a, "Yes sir", or something like that.

Luckily Jared didn't seem to notice. As per usual, he was sleeping quite soundly. I sighed again; he was so adorable when he slept.

Then again, I kind of wish he had heard. If he had heard, then he would have to notice me. If he would have noticed me, maybe he would have said something to me… maybe I wouldn't be sitting here, like every other day, wondering and hoping, dreamily, pathetically staring like the stalker girl that I am.

"Miss Connweller!" Mr. Donavan was fuming. Apparently he's angry that I'm not paying attention and blatantly staring at Jared, again. Honestly I don't think I've ever seen him so irate. It was kind of funny, you know, in that hysterical, I've-never-been-in-this-much-trouble-in-my-life kind of way.

Normally, I think I would be crying by now, but sometime between his yelling and my hysteria, his yelling woke Jared, and in case anyone hasn't noticed yet, I find Jared a tad distracting. He's rubbing his eyes and he looks a little grumpy, more than a little actually… he's just been in such a bad mood lately for some reason…

Mr. Donavan is now right in front of my desk, which is three rows from the back and two to the right, on the side of the door. It's also one row from the back, and one row behind and in the column directly to the right of Jared's desk, which is nice, because he always turns his head this way when he sleeps.

Mr. Donavan is still glaring. The vein on the right side of his head is bulging, and I'm a tad worried that he's going to burst a blood vessel.

"Miss Connweller, you can see me after class," he spat at me. I flinch a little and lower my eyes. I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I really hate being the center of attention.

I glance around and Jared is looking at me now, or maybe more the scene I've caused. His eyes become a little squinty and his brows furrow before he lowers his head back to his arms and then its lights out again. I guess he's decided that his nap is far more interesting than me being yelled at. I don't know whether to be relieved that he doesn't realize it's him I'm getting in trouble over, or upset that he cares more about his nap than me being yelled at. I settle for both.

Then I look back up at Mr. Donavan to see that he is still standing over me and glaring at me. I gulp.

Oops.

I mutter another soft, hesitant "Yessir", before I sink another inch into my chair. The whole exchange couldn't have taken more than five minutes, but it seems like a whole day has passed by. The rest of the class period passes by with me taking mindless notes, mostly concentrating on not looking at Jared, and worrying about how much trouble I'm going to be in.

I'm not one to curse, but I'm pretty sure that the amount of trouble I'm in couldn't be described as anything less than a shitload. But then I've never really gotten in trouble before, so I think even a stern talking to feels like major discipline. Speaking of, oh no, Mom is going to _kill_ me.

The bell rings. I grab my stuff, putting my papers away slowly and discretely, pretending not to notice the stares and smirks of my traitorous classmates, leaving me here to my doom. Honestly, half of these kids have been my playmates since pre-k and not even a single heartfelt "good luck"? Of course I also notice that some of them don't look at me at all. One in particular, that is. I have a feeling I don't need to mention who.

Mr. Donavan is standing behind his desk waiting patiently for me to walk up to him. Well, maybe patiently is the wrong word, it's more like he's staking out and waiting to strike, like those Venus fly traps you see on the discovery channel. In this metaphor I am the stupid fly who's about to be devoured.

Yay me.

As I walk up he does that teacher/parent thing; when they get that I'm-so-disappointed-in-you-the-only-thing-I'm-capable-of-doing-is-shrugging-my-shoulders-and-giving-you-this-look look. It makes me a little angry, because it isn't like he actually cares about me and my education, he's just angry that I'm not in raptures at his marvelous lecturing. At least that's what I'm telling myself, because otherwise I've really done something wrong by not listening, and not only I'm about to be punished for staring at the boy who I'm obsessed with and doesn't even know I exist, but I'm also wrong.

And this day really does not need to get any suckier. For goodness sake, it's only second period.

After Mr. Donavan finishes with the look, and finishes the whole "I'm so disappointed in your behavior" spiel, he gives me a week of detention, to start whenever he so chooses, and assigns me a three page essay on the importance of paying attention in class.

A week of detention. For staring at a boy.

Outwardly, I'm still shy timid Kimberly Ann Connweller, abashed and terribly sorry for my actions.

Inwardly, I'm livid.

I mean really! What kind of self-righteous, narcissistic ass-hat gives someone an entire week's worth of detention for staring at a freaking boy?!

Mr. Donavan apparently.

~*~

"_What?!_" My best friend, really my only friend, Garrett Carter, yells appropriately when I tell him in lunch about the incident this morning.

Garrett has been my best friend as long as I can remember. He's a big dork, he likes chess and that World of Warcraft stuff, he's as thin as a rail, gangly and tallish, and he has the best grades in our class. He's super sweet though, and he always listens, which is such a rare quality in a boy. I guess that's why we mesh well, me being the unbearably shy, Jared-stalker girl and everything.

"A week of detention?! That's really unfair. Maybe you should talk to the principal, Kim." Garrett's solution to everything: seek help from higher authorities.

"And have Mr. Donavan hate me more than he already does?" I reply, "Hardly. Honestly, it won't be that bad… it's not worth the trouble."

"Yes it is, Kim." Garrett gives me a knowing look. He knows that when I say it's not worth the trouble, I'm saying, that I'm not worth the trouble. Which I'm really not, but I'm cool with it. I'm used to being the overlooked one, and I don't like being fussed over.

I glare at Garrett's knowing look and give him my patented we've-been-here-before-so-don't-go-down-this-road-again look.

He huffs and mutters, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I recognize that tree."

I can't help but laugh. We're so in synch it's ridiculous. He laughs too and the ice is broken. He then launches into an in depth description of his latest nerdy endeavor and I do my best to pay attention.

The only problem is Jared's just walked into the lunchroom… and well…

What's the point of even trying?

~*~

Hehe, brownie points to anyone who recognizes a quote in there.

So let me know what you think! Reviews make me happy, and when I'm happy I like to write. So if you liked it, then maybe you want to make me happy…


	2. Of Huge Eyes, and Freakouts

A/N: Hey dears! Here's another chapter, be sure to let me know what you think of it! Constructive criticism is my favorite, so let me know, good, bad, really freaking horrible? I'm all ears.

~*~

I glared at the computer screen in front of me.

I was supposed to be writing a paper for history, the one about paying attention and not pissing teachers off, unfortunately I kept getting pissed off while writing it so I kept ending up with things like…

_It's important to pay attention because some teachers have an incredibly low self esteem, because their mothers never listened to them as children and now are dependent on attention from those who are required to give them attention. It's tragic, as neurotics of this extreme are likely to die angry and alone._

I doubt Mr. Donavan would be impressed by my intense psychoanalytical study of him, even though I think it is pretty realistic.

So maybe I was overreacting… a little, but my mom grounded me for three weeks because of it! Three weeks! And that isn't even the worst part; she also threatened to have me moved out of history class, which is my only period, aside from lunch, that Jared and I share!

As an obsessive teenage girl, I think I have a right to overreact.

I closed the window and shut the computer off, I obviously was not about to get any more work done, at least not anything that I could actually turn it.

I turned to my pre-calculus homework instead, stared at it for about two seconds, and then decided that I should go make myself some pasta for dinner. Pasta is my favorite; it's quick, tastes good, and it's full of yummy carbs. Carbs are just about the best thing ever invented… though I'm sure I might change my mind in 10 years when they all catch up to me.

So I was downstairs, procrastinating, and eating carbs, like normal, when this really freaky thing happened.

I heard howling.

Now I know what you're thinking, Kim, you live in the freaking woods on a reservation in the middle of freaking no-where. Of course there are going to be animals outside, idiot.

But this wasn't normal howling, this wasn't any kind of howling I'd ever heard before. It was _freaky_. It was so loud and deep and just… weird. It was almost like it almost had a tone or a meaning.

Okay, so maybe my description sounds a tad crazy and very unhelpful… but it really was just so… not normal.

So of course I do what any sane person does when they hear weird awful howling outside their house. I went outside to go see what it was. It obviously was not one of my better ideas, the whole time I was walking to the door I was thinking about "survival of the fittest" and how appropriate my picture would be next to a definition of it in a textbook.

I mean who the heck goes out to look for something that just sounds like its huge and menacing? Someone who's way too curious, stupid, and bored, that's who.

So I'm on my front porch now, maneuvering my way around back. I say maneuvering because the sides of my house are all forest. I literally have no side yards, only a back and a front. I know it seems odd, but my house was built by my great-great-grandparents, who must have been completely wasted when they were planning it. I think they literally ran out into the woods, hacked down a few trees, built the house, and then hacked a little so there was some space in the back and the front for whatever people do in their back and front yards.

Anyway, so I have no side yards, just forest.

So I'm walking through the forest to the back and I have to cut around, away from the house a bit because the stuff close to the house is harder to get through, when I trip over some cloth on the ground. I bend over to pick up the offensive garment, and I realize that it was jean material. Was, of course, because it's completely shredded.

What crazy person was shredding their jeans outside of my house?

So here I am, holding a piece of torn denim, already a little freaked because of the howling, and the fact that some druggie/hobo/weirdo is probably hanging out in the woods by my house, when I see these huge freaking eyes.

I nearly peed my pants.

I almost think I imagined them because after I had blinked they were gone, and it was also kind of dark, and they were a bit far away… say 15 yards-ish. I thought it might have been one of those hallucination things, where you're scared and you can't see right so your mind makes up things that might make sense in the circumstances.

At least that's what I wanted to believe it was...

Otherwise there was a huge, howling beast shredding denim in the woods where I was supposed to have a side yard.

Okay, so hallucination it was.

I went back inside and ate my now cold pasta. I turned the TV on really loud and turned on all the lights in the house.

I know it was a silly, stupid, girly thing to do, but I really, really wanted to forget about those huge, haunting eyes.

~*~

I told Garrett about it at lunch the next day, and he laughed at me.

Freaking _laughed_.

How was this funny again?

He must have caught my anger because all the sudden he got quite and tried to look innocent. Hmph, like that will work on me, mister.

"Sorry, Kimmy, it's just… your face… and you said… 'and he had these huge freaking eyes that he just freaking stared at me with!'" said Garrett, he started chuckling a little again. He was insulting me, and calling me that annoying nickname?!

Jerk.

"He did!" I cried indignantly.

Garrett snorted. I pouted and poked around my lunch, how dare he laugh at me! I was either living right next to some huge scary beast or having hallucinations! This was serious business!

"You're probably just stressed from school and stuff, Kim." Garrett said, "and it was late and dark and you were freaked out. You probably just saw a funny shaped rock or something."

He was probably right, like always, but I couldn't let him win.

"What about the howling though?" I questioned.

"Probably some coyotes or something," he replied rationally. Garret was always rational; never considering the unordinary or unexplained. I know it's probably better, but isn't that a little… boring?

"Or maybe it wasn't." I glared, "maybe it was something different."

Somewhere across the cafeteria a tray hit the floor. The noise startled me, so I looked over to see what it was.

Paul, this annoyingly tall, really buff, angry kid who's in my grade, was standing next to where he normally sits with all the other annoyingly tall, really buff, angry, but less so than Paul, kids. It was like a requirement to being friends with them, because they all looked like NFL linebackers, only buffer. I was pretty sure they were all on steroids, just because I don't know how someone could be that huge without being on steroids, but Paul's girlfriends seemed to disagree. Not that I would know anything about _that_ but I've just heard… so yeah.

Anyway, Paul had obviously been just about to sit down when he dropped his tray, and now he was just standing there staring at me. He wasn't glaring or anything, but he wasn't exactly smiling either. He was actually kind of looking at me like I had two heads. His other friends started staring at him, and then followed his sight to look at me. Now the entire group of NFL linebacker wannabees were looking at me funny.

Eeek!

I turned back around quickly and looked at Garrett who seemed pretty confused about the exchange, too. He should be; I mean what the heck had just happened?

Desperate to change the subject, desperate to get something going that wasn't about me I muttered stupidly "Er, so what about them Nicks?"

Garrett laughed, a little nervously, and started talking about some new video game. We were still tense though, and when I glanced over my shoulder ten minutes later Paul was now seated and still staring intently at my back. I didn't look over again for the rest of the period.

~*~

When I got home after school that day my mom was there. I know for most people that's normal, and stuff, and not really something worth mentioning, but for me it's a huge thing. See my mom is a psychiatrist, which is a fancy way of saying she's a doctor who spends most of her time working with really, _really_ crazy people. The kinds of people who think they're superheroes, or who have imaginary friends they think are real. She has much less hectic hours than most of the doctors at the hospital because normally she has regular patients who she sees by appointments, but she's also the only psychiatrist in the area, so she's pretty much always on call.

At the moment I'm mad at her because of the whole grounding thing, but I can't help being super excited to see her. I love my mom, and not in the she's-my-mom-so-I'm-obligated-to-love-her love her, but she's really the funniest, most awesome, most amazing adult I know. I want to be just like her when I grow up, except I don't know if I want to work with the crazies all the time. I'm thinking about research psychology, actually. Less school, and you don't really have to interact with the people you observe.

"Hey sweet pea," she says smiling at me.

"Hey mom," I reply. "Why are you home so soon?"

"I thought I'd check on my favorite inmate," she joked. "I have to be back at work by six, but I thought we could eat dinner and you could tell me about your day."

"I was thinking chicken salad sandwiches, would that be acceptable, warden?"

I normally had to make dinner. Mom was a single parent, my dad died when I was in 7th grade, so we share most of the chores, except for the laundry and the cooking, which I do. It's really hard on her, having such a demanding job and having a kid too, so I try to help when I can. We normally treat each other more like friends or roomies than mom and daughter, that is when she's not busy grounding me.

"Sounds great," she chirped, "I'll set the table."

I had a feeling that this school discipline thing had her worried about me, and I was pretty sure her coming home for dinner was more a thinly veiled "we need to talk". She was pretty good at reading me, it _is_ her job to read people well, after all, so I'm sure she'd seen how agitated I was about it. I really hated that she took off from work because of me though.

I was halfway through my sandwich, when she proved my theory right. We were chatting a little, and I told her about Paul's freak out at lunch, not about the scary eyes because I wasn't about to have her thinking I was crazy and needed therapy, when she used the opportunity to segue into a conversation about school in general before she asked about 'the incident'.

"So, honey, what's been going on with you lately in history?" she asked. "You've never had a problem with the subject before…"

I blushed, "er, well… actually… I guess I just get kinda distracted in there, and Mr. Donavan doesn't seem to appreciate it."

"What distracts you?" she asked. I'm pretty sure she already knows, because she knows about Jared, but she never implies anything when she interrogates me.

"Well, ah, Jared's in there…" I said. This is sooo embarrassing.

"Oh, I see." She says. "Have you ever considered telling him how you feel?"

Tell him how I feel?! Has all that time she's spent with psychopaths started to rub off on her?! Jared's way out of my league, that would be so… embarrassing!

"Mom! I can't, he's, he's… popular, and well, y'know, he's _that_ boy!"

Mom laughed, and took a bite out of her sandwich before setting it down to reply, "so he's _that_ boy then? And what does that mean to you?"

Was she trying to embarrass me now?

"Well, he's just, he's-" how even to explain it? "He's like, my dream guy. The guy that for most girls isn't even _real_. The guy that is so right he can't even possibly exist because it would be way too perfect and fairytale-ish."

"So you can't tell him how you feel because…" she trailed off.

"If he doesn't like me, which I'm sure he won't… then he won't be the perfect guy anymore…"

"Ah, so you're afraid," she said. "Let me tell you something dear, holding this inside of you will only accomplish you to fail history. You can never know how he feels without talking to him; so what if he's popular?! If he's as good of a guy as you say he is, he shouldn't care that you have different friends, he should like you for you. You are a sweet, pretty girl, and would be a catch for any guy, and if he can't see it he isn't worth your attention, and he certainly is not worth a week of detention and an awful grade."

I sighed, she was right, of course.

"I want you to try to talk to him," she said. "Think of it as a challenge. You don't even have to tell him you like him yet, just talk to him about something, anything, the weather if you want."

My eyes got huge and she laughed. She wanted me to talk to Jared? I would make a total idiot out of myself; I can't even talk _around_ Jared!

"Just try it, sweet pea," she said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

~*~

A/N: So a little bit longer this time, and we got to meet Kim's awesome mommy! No Jared/Kim stuff yet, but no worries, I just want to give you a general picture of Kim and her life before I go and make a mess of it. Sorry if it's dreadfully dull right now, but I promise it will pick up! Pinky swear!

Someone asked me to explain Psych references so here's a few…

Neuroticism is a disorder in which a person tries to control every aspect of their lives, and sometimes also the lives of those around them, depending on how severe their neurosis is.

Psychoanalysis is literally when someone analyses a person's mind. It's an attempt to sum up why a person acts the way they do.

The whole "survival of the fittest" is more ecological than psychological, but Kim's basically saying that she's not "the fittest" as she's running outside where a possibly dangerous animal could be… the theory states that over time a more well adapted species will survive while a less well adaptive species will not. Obviously I'm using a very loose interpretation of it here.

Psychiatrists are doctors who specialize in psychological diseases and disorders. Because they're doctors they go through medical school and are highly trained, and can prescribe medicine. Psychologists normally have doctorates, and some see patients for counseling, while others can research behaviors or other aspects of normal or abnormal psychology.

Most of the stuff I know I'm getting from my college general psych class, so please correct me if I'm giving misleading or incorrect explanations. I don't assume to be an expert on it. [=

If I've forgotten anything let me know!

I love reviews, by the way. *hint hint wink wink*


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